


Reaction Formation

by kethni



Series: BST [1]
Category: Veep
Genre: Exes, Love/Hate, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 03:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4812866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben protests too much</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reaction Formation

**Author's Note:**

> A little experimental thing.

 

 

Asshole. There were fucking polar bears with warmer natures. The whole situation was fucking bullshit. They’d been fucking slaughtered in the midterms and this was how POTUS was going to fix it? His great college buddy _knew_ how much he hated that cold-hearted prick but that didn’t stop him. Oh no. And he’d turned up inside a fucking hour so POTUS could fuck right off pretending that it was a spur of the moment decision. No. He’d been fucking _plotting_ and _planning_ to bring back that… lizard.

He didn’t even know why he was surprised. Really. POTUS nearly had a fucking breakdown when he’d quit after the election to go teach. Said he ‘needed a break to reconnect with the world outside Washington,’ which was clearly bullshit since the world outside Washington was a fucking wasteland like something out of _The Warriors._  No, Ben knew why the asshole went running just when they’d won the damn election. Oh, he knew.

And now that lump of ice was going to be strutting around the place like he fucking owned it. No, not strutting. That would be too fucking human. He’d have to run some polls first, see if the public would approve of him demonstrating something like a personality trait.

The fucker walked right past. Didn’t even see him standing there. Anyone else and he’d have thought they were pretending not to see him, but the icy fucker didn’t have the social awareness to know he should avoid an embarrassing situation. Just marched by like a good little robot and… Jesus. Did he know how tight his pants were? What was he wearing under there?

Christ on a crutch, the fucker had turned and was looking at him.

‘What the fuck are you looking at?’ Ben asked.

 Kent’s eyebrows twitched and his eyes narrowed. Ben thought he was going to say something but instead he slightly shook his head and continued on his way.

‘Yeah, you walk away,’ Ben muttered.

It wasn’t a _bad_ sight but not good enough to make up for the fact that POTUS was going to fucking fire him. After all Ben had done. He’d fucking crapped on his conscience and called it a carpet.

Ben dragged himself back to his office, shut and barricaded the door. There were twenty-five messages on his landline and another forty-three on his cell phone. The constant stream of texts and emails had his cell vibrating like a broken fucking cement mixer. Ben collapsed onto his sofa, curled up in the foetal position and screwed his eyes shut.

***

After a while Ben got fed up of assholes trying to get into his office and went to find somewhere to hide. Stationery. That was pretty much what he could cope with. Paper and staples weren’t going to start screaming at him.

It was icicle dick who came for him. Wasn’t that just another fucking insult? POTUS knew how much he hated the guy and that’s who he sent.

‘Why’re you hiding in a cupboard?’ Kent asked.

‘Well you’ve answered your own fucking question.’ Ben mustered up a glower. ‘What the fuck do you want?’

‘Your presence is requested.’

‘By you? Why Kent I didn’t think you cared anymore.’

Ben would have liked embarrassment but he’d have settled for anger. What he got was nothing. Worse than nothing, just blank fucking indifference.

‘POTUS,’ Kent said.

‘You his errand boy now? What’s wrong with a phone call?’

‘Your cell is off.’

Ben dragged himself to his feet, joints creaking and complaining. ‘You still do all that fitness bullshit? Yoga and Pilates and all that?’

Kent narrowed his eyes a fraction. ‘I attempt to stay fit and flexible.’

‘Oh good.’ Ben yanked his tie into a different variety of strangled. ‘Must be useful when you’re fucking yourself in the ass.’

‘Jealous?’ Kent asked.

‘Shut the fuck up and get out of the goddamn doorway.’

* * *

Of course Kent followed him into the oval office. Of fucking course he did. It wasn’t enough that Ben had to fail, Kent had to see the last fucking ignominy.

POTUS was nursing a large rum and coke. In public he drank scotch, which was one of Kent’s contributions. It was more “reassuring” to the public. Whoo fucking hoo.

‘We’re screwed, Benny,’ POTUS said. He was sprawled on the couch. He didn’t invite Ben to sit down.

‘Seems so, yeah.’ Ben glanced back and saw Kent leaning back against the doorpost. Well, Ben wouldn’t give the asshole the satisfaction of seeing him get taken out behind the farm. He’d throw himself on his sword first. ‘So, I guess this is where you tell me that you are reluctantly forced to accept my resignation.’

POTUS swirled his drink around in his glass. ‘No. Although it’s traditional under the circumstances,’ he glanced over to Kent and then back to Ben, ‘I have been informed that it’s…’ He waved a hand to Kent.

‘Statistically it’s been proved to be counter-productive,’ Kent said. When Ben looked at him he shrugged. ‘It gives the appearance of weakness and blood in the water spurs a feeding frenzy.’

‘So what’re we saying here?’ Ben asked suspiciously. ‘You don’t want me to quit?’

POTUS drained his glass and stood up. ‘You don’t get away that easy, Benny.’ He chucked Ben on the shoulder. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Sir.’ Ben shambled to his feet as POTUS marched out of the room. ‘Where the fuck are you going?’ he asked when Kent turned to follow.

Kent looked at him blankly. ‘I have work to do.’

‘You told him not to fire me,’ Ben accused.

Kent put his hand on his hip, his long, straight fingers spread out. ‘I provided POTUS with data.’

Ben pulled in his gut as he shuffled over. ‘And you gave him data that he shouldn’t throw me to the dogs.’

‘Data is data. Pure. Clean.’ Kent lifted his head and straightened his back. ‘Whether you continue to work as chief of staff or not is a matter of supreme indifference to me.’

‘Oh, you don’t give a shit, huh?’

Kent’s foot tapped on the floor. ‘Are we done?’

Ben poked his finger into Kent’s shoulder, leaving a distinct dent in the pristine material. ‘Now you fucking ask if we’re done. _Now_ , you ask.’

‘Good grief,’ Kent sighed and straightened his shirt. ‘Despite being aware of your emotional immaturity I am still somehow surprised to find you sulking.’

Ben clenched his fists. ‘Don’t mess with me. That’s all I’m saying.’

‘You’re the one blocking the door.’

With bad grace, Ben moved aside. ‘I’m watching you.’

‘Watch me walking away.’

***

Ben went for a walk. He needed to clear his fucking head. Outside was dark for a city but there were always lights nearby, even in the dregs of the night. Ben snagged a cigarette from a secret service guy, found a little hidden spot outside, and lit up. He didn’t smoke much. He’d be the first to admit he had an addictive personality but nicotine had never bitten deep. As he blew out a stream of smoke he tried to remember the last time that he’d smoked. Must be more than a year. Hell, maybe it was after the election.

He dialled Elizabeth’s number but it went straight to voicemail. There was a time when she’d have stayed up, not because she was interested in politics but because it was important to him. But that time had fucking passed. She’d have gone to bed hours ago and wouldn’t be awake for hours more. Shit. Well, it’s not like he could’ve really talked to her about it anyway.

Ben flicked ash from his cigarette. He’d had a couple of belts but there was a line. Taking the edge off was one thing but getting blackout drunk was out of fashion. God, he missed the eighties. People never gave coke credit for how slimming it was. Nights like this he could go for a little something to keep him going. Maybe a large something to keep him going.

It didn’t feel like a relief. Leastways not yet. He’d heard people say getting fired was the best thing that happened or that they only regretted not quitting sooner. Yeah, right. They always had that desperate, panicky expression in their eyes like if they said it enough maybe they’d convince themselves. He should ask Kent, see how that went down.

Ben dropped out his cigarette and ground it out with his heel. So POTUS hadn’t fired him. Okay. And the only people in the meeting had been the three of them. Better. Ben could spin it as a win, sure. POTUS didn’t give a shit and Kent wouldn’t contradict him. It’d look bad and Kent was _all_ about appearances. Kent. Fuck. He picked the right goddamn time to show up. He was like a spider crawling through the cracks and spinning webs in hidden corners.

Ben figured he’d go talk to Selina. She couldn’t stand the icy fucker either. Ben could do with an ally, even one as self-absorbed as she was. He heard that she was going to go see POTUS in the Oval Office.

***

Ben shambled into Kent’s office. ‘Brought you an icepack.’

Kent was hunched up in his chair, long arms and legs clasped close like an injured spider. His head up sharply and he glared at Ben with the eye not covered by a flannel.

‘What do you want?’ he demanded.

‘Lemme see your eye, you big baby.’

After a moment. Kent peeled the flannel away. Ben heaved himself into a chair and scooted close.

Kent looked at him warily. ‘Is it swollen?’

‘Nah, doesn’t look like you’re going to have a black eye.’ Ben squinted as he put the icepack over Kent’s eye. ‘Looks sore as shit though.’

Kent hissed at the coldness, and Ben felt the breath against his cheek. Kent looked at him uneasily like he expected an attack at any moment.

‘So lipstick to the eye, that’s a new one,’ Ben said.

‘I appear to have blocked out just how aggressively narcissistic the woman is.’

Ben snorted. ‘She’s a politician.’ He was still holding the icepack. His fingers were centimetres away from Kent’s face. He could feel the warmth radiating from Kent’s skin and smell the scraps of cologne still lingering.

‘I expect that kind of thing from Furlong,’ Kent said.

‘At least it was an accident. Well, that’s what Dickhead Dan was saying.’

Kent squinted at him. ‘Who or what is that?’

Ben shrugged. He could see the curve of Kent’s lower lip. God, he hated the beard. ‘He works for Selina. He was in the Oval Office when she clobbered you. Thirties. Dark hair. Sharkskin suit.’

‘Handsome?’

‘Sure, I guess. If you’re into that sort of thing.’ He caught Kent’s expression. ‘Overly groomed and completely amoral.’

‘I think I spoke to him.’

‘Well, I bet he just about creamed himself. You’re his goddamn hero, the brown-nosing little shit. He’s a treacherous little turd.’

Kent reached up and put his hand over Ben’s. Ben took a breath.

‘You can let go.’

‘Huh?’

‘Let go of the ice pack,’ Kent said. ‘I’ve got it.’

‘Oh.’ Ben dropped his hand. Wiped it on his pants. But he didn’t lean back or move away. ‘Maybe we should get you to the ER.’

‘Let’s not.’

Ben smiled. ‘Hey, remember that time in Minnesota? I thought I’d broken one of your damn ribs you were carrying on so much.’

Kent adjusted his grip on the icepack. ‘Do you think this is an appropriate time and place for that story?’

‘Christ.’ Ben rolled his eyes. ‘Hey, you know you left all your shit in the oval office?’

Kent cocked his head. ‘My what?’

Ben licked his lips. ‘Your shit. Your files and your jacket and your cell. You should check that.’

‘My cell?’ Kent asked, frowning.

‘Yeah. Someone might be trying to call. See how your night is going.’

Kent’s face stiffened. ‘Don’t.’

‘What? What the fuck am I doing?’

‘Don’t ask leading questions and don’t do this.’ Kent’s sharp gesture took in the icepack, Ben himself, and the room beyond.

‘Jesus Christ.’ Ben could hear the humiliating wheedle in his own voice. ‘I can’t be friendly?’

‘We are not friends,’ Kent said.

Ben sat back. ‘Why is everything is so fucking difficult with you?’

Kent shrugged. ‘Okay. Let’s be friendly. How’s Elizabeth?’

Ben’s hands tightened into fists. ‘You cold fucking prick. I’m just trying to have a normal conversation with you –’

‘We don’t have those,’ Kent said. ‘We have you insulting and belittling me or we have... the other thing. I’m certainly not about to start that again.’

Ben was on his feet. ‘I wasn’t suggesting that, you arrogant fucking reptile.’

‘Sure.’

‘Don’t give me that.’ Ben’s meaty finger poked Kent in the shoulder. ‘You don’t get to be pissed.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard.’

Kent shook his head. ‘You’re pissed because I didn’t say goodbye? For God’s sake, are you six?’

Ben’s finger jabbed Kent again. ‘You didn’t have the balls –’

Kent shoved the icepack at Ben. ‘My mother had a stroke.’

Ben’s hand dropped. When he spoke his voice was uncertain. ‘Bullshit.’ He straightened his back. ‘POTUS said you wanted some time away from Washington.’

‘That was after.’ Kent swept his fingers through his hair.

Ben glanced away. ‘You could’ve fucking explained, was that so hard? Christ, you didn’t even tell me you were coming back.’

Kent straightened his tie. ‘It’s been two years, Ben,’ he said. ‘Move on.’

‘Well fuck me for trying to have a grown-up conversation with Elsa the goddamn snow queen. No room for openness and honesty here.’ Ben turned and stamped to the door.

‘What did Elizabeth say when you told her I was back?’ Kent asked quietly.

‘What?’ Ben gripped the edge of the desk. ‘Why the fuck would I tell her anything about you? Are you trying to threaten me?’

‘No.’

‘Because if you try I will fucking crush you.’

Kent folded his arms across his chest. ‘So no open and honest conversation with your wife.’

‘Fuck off.’

Kent sighed. ‘Your problem, Ben, is that you want to have everything and pay for nothing.’

‘Well your problem is that you are _you_.’ His hand swept in a cutting gesture. ‘Stay the hell away from me.’

‘With relish.’

Ben slammed the door shut behind him. It would have been more satisfying if the fucking thing hadn’t bounced right open. Ben glanced back and saw that Kent was already engrossed in his computer. Fucking snake. He didn’t want Ben to be friendly? Fine. Ben would show Kent just how unfriendly he could be.

 

 


End file.
